


High-end stuff

by Lordoflesamis



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, but yeah, enjolras' mum is amazing, gays in paris, i just got the idea and had to write it, im sorry this is so short, meddling mum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lordoflesamis/pseuds/Lordoflesamis
Summary: Grantaire works at the Tea Room of la Galeries Lafayette, crafting intricately designed pastries and chocolates, and mixing with a lot of pleasant upper-class people, despite being so... scruffy. One such woman is Simone Enjolras, the mother of a certain object of affection, who seems to think her son might be a good match for R...





	High-end stuff

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so short, the next chapter will be longer, but I had this idea in my head and just really wanted to write it! Enjoy :D

Grantaire never thought they’d hire him for this job. He was too scruffy, too ugly, for such a posh, pretty place. Against the beautiful pristine glass background of la Galeries Lafayette, his beard scruff, paint stained fingers and unkempt hair seemed more unsightly. But the interviewer had been incredibly enthusiastic once she saw what he could do with icing, and he’d immediately been put to work in the tea rooms, crafting pastries and decorating chocolates all morning, serving and replenishing through shopping hours. 

It paid a lot more than his other jobs, and while some of his customers were pretentious and annoying, most were quite pleasant. Old people, couples, held shaking hands over tables, or a small gaggle of old ladies would giggle like school girls and call him “rugged” in mock-whispers when they thought he couldn’t hear. Business men and women would occasionally bring clients to the tea rooms, and sit tensely with a scone in their hand- a bizzare juxtaposition. Mothers brought their daughters in for birthday treats or dates would come and sample the chocolates, feeding one another in a sickening motion. 

Enjolras’ mother, as it turned out, a beautiful older woman by the name of Simone, frequented the tea rooms with her friends, Collette and Adelle. Grantaire, however, didn’t realise, that she was the mother of the love of his life, but it made sense really. She was tall, gorgeous, with a presence that filled the room and a tongue faster than a hummingbird’s wings. 

He liked her, and while she reminded him of his long-term crush, he never made the connection- whenever she talked about her son she called him “lazy” and “unmotivated” which he had never associated with Enjolras. She would, of course, only refer to her son when lamenting her lack of grandchildren, a context in which Grantaire had never heard him.

“You know,” she said, one day, leaning amicably across the counter, “My son would like you.” 

Grantaire’s bisexuality had come up as a topic of conversation just last week, but he hadn’t expected this conversation arriving so fast. He chuckled, shaking his head, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, “Thank you, Simone, but that’s really not necessary. I-“

Simone waved his protests away, flicking her hand airily, “I know, I know. You’re caught up on that boy you know. But listen, my son is lovely. Sure, he’s opinionated, but you like that.” She winked, and he rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. 

“Let me give you his number,” she said, “Give him a text sometime. He likes coffee.” 

“Simone, please.” Grantaire said, “I’m fine. I don’t want to use your son as a coping mechanism. I’ll just suffer on my own, thanks.”

Simone sighed, “Suit yourself,” and went to join her friends.

Grantaire served another regular, an old man by the name of Edward, an Englishman married to a Frenchwoman, and began to clean down the counter, where a smudge of dark chocolate had been bugging him for a while. Then he got a batch of red velvet cupcakes out of the oven, and, on his manager’s instruction, decorated a hundred chocolates with delicate Ls. 

When he was finished, his manager told him to clear the table on which Simone and her friends had sat, and on the receipt was a man’s phone number, with the words TEXT HIM written in capitals. Grantaire laughed, and threw it out, reminding himself to decline more firmly the next time he saw Simone. 

///

“Mother please don’t give out my number to strange men you fall in love with on your little girls trips.” Enjolras said, frustrated, not looking up from the essay he was working on. 

Courfeyrac, sitting beside his friend, looked up in excitement, “You did what? Simone you amazing woman.”

Simone smiled. He’d always been her favourite. “Yes, I did. Because you continuously moan about that man you know, dear, I thought it might be good to see someone else.”

Courf’s eyes widened, “What man?”

Enjolras groaned, “Mother, with all due respect please shut up. Courf, don’t ask I won’t answer. Both of you; I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I don’t want to date anyone.” 

Sensing he was about to leave in a hurry, his mother held out a perfectly manicured hand to stop him, “Wait. Are you still alright to take me out for my birthday tomorrow?” 

Enjolras softened, “Of course, maman.”

“Great,” she grinned, “We’ll go to the tea room then.”

“Mother!”

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment/leave kudos it really makes my day!


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